


In Which The Golden Age That Wasn't Exactly A Good Thing

by Chronomancer



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: BlackIce, Jack Frost is General Winter, Jack doesn't want to know anything about her, M/M, Pitch Black is Captain Pitch, Ward of Time, and kills curious spirits with Black Magic, she narrates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 11:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chronomancer/pseuds/Chronomancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Golden Age wasn't a good thing in the slightest to the infamous General Winter and Captain Black. Jack's crashed on Earth and there's little to stop any curious soul from finishing him off. Pitch is MIA, and the Ward of Time is done with everyone's sass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which everyone needs to relearn how to drive

**Author's Note:**

> A.K.A. In Which Everyone Needs A New Ship  
> Based off of http://fanartdrawer.tumblr.com/post/51698366727/dream-pirate-jack-and-pitch-that-was-really-much

There have always been rumors of who General Winter is. Sprites, Fae, Spirits, and other Beings alike wondered who the legend was. Of course, all claimed to had seen him (or was it her?) one time or another, in Finland or Russia or even up in Alaska and Canada. The mystery was such a profound one because _one day he suddenly appeared._ No warning, no whispered stories to back up belief.

Not to mention whoever this man or woman was is awesome in power. Blizzards that kill thousands within days, millions within weeks, it is all very terrifying to the greenhorn seasonal spirit or young fae, because _this is unheard of_.

Luckily, the one person who has seen him knows to keep her mouth shut. She is…not supposed to be here either, a different sort of refugee from the Great War. Not like that Pooka who came in and slid into the Pagan belief system, or that Russian sorcerer who built himself a great fortress in the tundra.

She was a _Ward of Time_ , for Goddess’s sake. A member of the once-mighty race that _kept the universe expanding_. Without her kind, the sun would shudder and implode. Moons would crash into planets and asteroids would careen into precious atmospheres and destroy them. Time and space would be ripped apart from their so-far eternal dance.

And more importantly, she especially is an ally of the General and Captain. There was a balance her people had strived to maintain, with the dark and light forces. The ‘glorious’ ‘Golden Age’ was nothing more than an over-correction of a small tilt in balance.

She still hold bloody vengeance against all Pooka, because the memory of her lover’s ebony throat- and then their child’s - being ripped out in front of her still sends her into panic attacks and bouts of crippling paranoia.

Survival, it seems sometimes, isn’t enough a reason to keep moving.

The first time she saw General Winter on Earth, she recognized the ship first. Elation, pure and unfiltered, raced through her mind, but staggered back in horror when she realized he and his ship  were crashing into the impossibly deep snow banks of the South Pole.

The sound is what gets her. The sound of the ship crashing into the snow is a medley of screaming metal and her own chanting. Chanting, because she’s not going to save magic when _there’s a bloody ship being disintegrated in front of her_. Her hands spasm as the magic takes its toll but she can see the ship slowing down and the slight glow of the hull. There might be someone inside, maybe the General or a small crew. She could save someone, fulfill her treaty to the General and Captain.

She could be useful, for once.

She races to the ship, feet not leaving the slightest imprint on the loose cover of snow. Stopping at a piece of broken railing, she tenses and listens closely for signs of life. Knowing the reputation of General Winter, he’s probably booby-trapped the entire ship and she doubts even a crash like this could de-activate them.

“General?” She hisses, crouching and looking around her. This is so sketchy and dangerous but _she will not leave until she knows_.

There is a wet, absolutely disgusting cough from what she thinks is the captain’s cabin.

Cursing softly, she crawls the rest of the way to the main part of the ship and tries to find an entrance. This crash- after her own ship’s ‘landing’- will not go unnoticed. And that nasty little rumor she’s overheard about a Warrior Pooka and a Fae Queen has her flinching at the slightest rustle.

 _There!_ Beside the shattered remains of a window, a space she can squeeze into. It takes more than a bit of maneuvering and a few cuts, but she sees General Winter finally.

He looks horrible, to say in the least. He’s gripping something attached to a silver chain so hard it’s cut into his hand and the snow beneath him is a dark blue. The area reeks of burning metal and she coughs hard several times. She approaches him, murmuring her own name and race, and rank before he blinks at her, light blue eyes not totally comprehending what she’s just said.

“We’re on Earth, General. We are also alive. But we need to get you bandaged and we need to get you somewhere safe.”

She speaks slowly, softly, smoothing over consonants so much it’s not so recognizable as it should be, but it’s her people’s stereotypical accent and she can only hope he realizes it. There’s a nagging feeling that she’s standing on a proverbial cliff in this situation, picking her words and actions wisely as she stares at the General who’s destroyed entire worlds.

The General’s eyes focus with intensity suddenly and lets go of the necklace he’s been clutching.

“You’re a _Warden.”_  The words are hissed but she nods quickly, showing him her wrists- more specifically the tattoos signifying her rank. Lightening done in red and white following the vein patterns. “And important. Good.” He adds, wincing as he tries to get himself upright.

“I need to find a place to sleep this wound off, _Ward,_ but I’m guessing you just got here also.”

She bites back some rude retort and pinches the bridge of her nose. This is going to be hard to explain. She brushes his hands aside and looks the offending wound. It’s not deep- but it’s contaminated and there’s discolored pus that pushes some nausea up her throat. Gross. She tears off the bottom hem of her undershirt and deftly wraps it around the General’s waist after practically ripping a hole in the man’s shirt-much to his voiced resistance.  

“I have an area- its close, too. I’ve been on Earth for about 15 sun rotations. It’s a _Warden_ thing, Time flows differently around my kind.”

The General seems to ignore her to take a quick look around when she’s done, surveying the damage around him before looking at her with a searing and absolute hate.

“I am going to kill Sanderson. And every Pooka I can find. If my Pitch is-“ here, here is where she sees one of the most terrifying men in the world speak. It’s painful to watch his face contort around the word. Politely, she looks to the side. They both know the word staying unsaid “- I will tear every world down and apart until everything and everyone is dead inside and he is found.”

It’s the sheer viciousness of it that has her mentally reeling, but she’s so on board with this plan that she barks out a laugh.

“And they say the _Captain’s_ the more dangerous one.”

 He raises an eyebrow at that.

“You’re either cocky or desperate, aren’t you, _Warden.”_

She laughs again, but this one is breathy and forced out. Another laugh and she’s the one holding her sides now.

“ _Wards_ rarely attach themselves to people and things, General. Those who do are usually outcast from the majority of my society.”

The implication behind her words stops the white-haired man in front of her. He’s blatantly staring at her, the knowledge darkening his eyes and while that’s just kind of the rudest thing in her culture she can’t find the words to ask him to look away.

She stands up as much as she can and makes a sort of waving gesture with a bony hand.

“I salvaged my ship’s med kit, so if we start moving now I think we might be safe.”

The General grunts, pulling on her wrist as he attempts a sort of crouch. The _Ward_ tugs an arm over her shoulder and lifts him easily. The General is a cold, wintery thing- but _damn_ if she doesn’t want to sit him down and force-feed him stew.

“This ‘area’, where is it? I must stay close to the ship.” He mutters this and looks at a half-melted seat.

“Wait.” His voice is strained, and she complies, shifting more of his weight to her. “My staff. Where is my staff?’’

She looks incredulously at him, baffled.

“You want to do this _now?_ I have no idea where your staff is. My main objective was to find survivors, not look for weapons.” But the General is insistent that they find his staff and she caves, muttering obscenities in her native language before the General sends an un-amused look her way.

“If I die I am going to _haunt_ you for the rest of your life, _General._ ” And hey, the man seems to understand she’s really not comfortable with this because her kind _can_ actually turn into banshees.

“It’s brown, will look old, and it has a-“

“Crook at the end, I’ve seen the stick.” She finishes, carefully setting the man down before wiggling out of the small closure. Tense and on edge, she does a 360° and almost lets out a screech as she sees a figure only a little further than the edge of human eyesight. She can’t tell if it’s humanoid or simply standing up but it’s not colorful and-

_It’s probably a blasted Pooka and she’s not getting paid not nearly enough for this._

She glares at it as she hears the General demanding to know what’s going on.

“There’s someone here. I can’t tell what it is, but it’s not a native human. “She crouches and lets her body spin energy from the surroundings, it feels cold and merciless and intoxicating.

There’s a loud swear form the General and he orders her to find his staff. Not wanting to take her eyes off the figure that’s just standing there she sends out a tendril of energy to search for a magic item.

The tendril comes back, informing her there is several, scattered around. She sends it out again to find an organic conduit.

There are three: one to her left, another one under a big chunk of metal behind her and the General and a last one a few yards in front of her. She sidesteps to the left first and lets her eyes un-focus and crouches down to feel for anything. It’s sunken into the snow but it feels like a gem of sorts, tear-shaped and she puts it into her coat’s pocket anyways.

She re-focuses and the figure is moving to the side one leg across the other. Not a quadrupedal, then. She tells the General that, but her worry only ratchets up a notch as it raises its arm for something. She squints but can’t see any more detail.

Now she moves backward towards a big pile of metal, grabbing and twisting off a road to use as a spear or skewer.  She kicks the melted mess over to the side and crouches for it, but upon her finding it a sphere of sorts leaves that be.

“If your staff is here, General, then it is in front of both of us. At that distance I’ll be able to see who this creature is.” She speaks quietly but knows his ears can pick her up.

“But if you can see it, it can see you.” He finishes soberly, and they sigh.

She moves forward parallel to the General’s position.

“I _will_ haunt you.” She states, gripping the makeshift spear in her hands.

And walks the last few steps to his staff.  
  


 

* * *

 

Jack watches her through the cracks, face passive. The _Ward_ , he is confident, can destroy whomever this is. Her people rarely fight, and if he were not in this position wishes that he could watch her fight. He can see a spear of his ship’s metal in her hand and gives her a bit more respect. The marks she showed him- how did she find him anyways?- prove she’s the second-in-command of whatever faction she’s from.

He remembers breaking into the atmosphere, the front of the ship glowing white-hot. He also remembers holding onto the locket like it was the only thing protecting him.

And he also remembers, very clearly, blacking out. It must have been stress-induced because the next thing he sees is the blackened, warped former archway above him, and the pleasant chill of the snow under him.

The woman’s eyes are the color of a stormy sky and they momentarily send a flare of apprehension over him. Gray eyes are the signature feature of a _Warden._ Keepers of Space and Time. Rumored to be the first great civilization. The inventors of the first ship able to travel in space.

In short, he is wary but relieved when she appears to be on his side. She’s been here for 15 ‘rotations’, whatever that means.

But he is even more worried after she implies that she’s an outcast. Outcasts are dangerous- he and Pitch are outcasts themselves- but he’s never heard of a _Warden_ being an outcast.

Pitch. Thinking his name sends pain in his mind- and reminds of the pain in his side. He scoops up some unstained snow and presses it to his side, as it feels hot and that’s just more energy to spend fixing it. He must keep the wound cold, and-

What if Pitch is dead? What if he didn’t make it? Jack knows he and Pitch decided to meet somewhere in this small galaxy if something were to happen but what if?

A male shout from outside brings his attention back to the right-now. The _Ward_ shouts and he can hear metal whistling through air before a pained grunt.

“General” He hears from her, “It’s a spirit. Not a powerful one but fast.” Her voice is colder than the ice and snow surrounding him and he wonders for a moment if the spirit looks like someone the _Ward_ knows, because she sounds _furious._

Now, if she’s calling whatever she caught _fast_ , then he’s happy he didn’t have to catch it.

Then he hears her swear in that weird-sounding tongue and metal groan before she starts chanting. He can feel the magic spread like hoar-frost and his side give a powerful pang before it starts to _itch._ He fumbles to expose it fully and he watches in fascination as the gray pus around the wound vanishes, and the deep purple of his abdominal muscles start to knit back together.  He hears the spirit’s voice -masculine- sobbing and screaming and generally begging for death.

Suddenly he really doesn’t want to know how he’s being healed.   _Black magic_ , Pitch’s voice murmurs to him, a snippet of memory from when Pitch decided jack was going to learn _some_ type of magic.

_‘Black magic is useful, but can go horribly wrong is even the slightest mistake is made. Promise me this, that you won’t try this without me there?’_

Of course he promised his lover that. And listening to the screams of the spirit, he decides his Pitch isn’t doing that, either. Jack finds magic strange, especially when no conduits are used. The magic book ( and several kidnapped sorcerers) said that in order to use magic without aide, you have to make room in the mind. Magic is usually drawn from nature, given a boost by the mind. But the magic that the _Ward’s_ using is a part of her now.

Jack knows his limits, knows he would go mad if he decided to meld magic into his soul. He knows firsthand, because Pitch has done that and there are times Pitch goes a little off the deep end of the deep end (that’s saying quite a lot because Jack knows they’re both not even 75% stable).

“I found your staff, General. I trust you feel better?” He’s only now noticed the screaming’s stopped and she’s poked her head back in. There’s a few drops of pale red on her cheekbone but other than that she looks pleased with herself as he studies his lack of tension and flesh shown. The cloth is unraveled the skin underneath is a scar-less milky white. Then she’s gone and he winces as he listens to her peel the metal between them out of the way.

He clears his throat before speaking: “Very much so. I will not forget this.” The answering look is smug and the slightest bit sly, one pale eyebrow lifted on her face.

“I know.”

 

* * *

 

It is years later when Jack hears the rumor of a space ship crashing on Earth. He sends a message on the North Wind for the _Ward_ when he hears it, and within seconds- still doesn’t want to know how- she is there, hair cut shorter than his own and sporting a _lot_ more knives. He in turn wears a cloak now, bone white and blue to cover his head. He has learned he is easily noticeable, but there is the Winter Court and they wear the same style of clothes so he learned to mimic them.

They go to the rumored scene of the crash and Jack grips his beloved locket the entire time. They’re in the middle of a forest next to a lake- which freezes all the way in the simple presence of Jack.

His companion whistles at the…lack of wreckage.

“Here we go, a proper landing! Maybe we can get off this blasted rock, General!” She says, voice dripping restrained hope.  She goes ahead of him and slips _through_ the spelled metal.  The ship does look something like a high-ranking commander in their Army had, but it could also be a replica, or a spy ship. Those were popular, he recalls.

“Nice trick, _Keeper_ ”. He comments after her. There is a muffled reply and he turns around, fixing the collar on his jacket and swinging his improved staff. There’s a blade on the end of the handle now, an addition even _she_ approved over, taking it from him to spell over it for the next week. When he got it back, it glowed silver and more or less hummed when he swung it quickly enough.

It was then he decided he would _never_ want to know anything more about how she did anything.

The forest was nice, he decided. It reminded him of one of his first encounters of Pitch. They didn’t exactly speak to each other in great detail the first time- it was more like Jack watching Pitch interrogate some hapless enemy lieutenant.

Okay, the ‘speaking’ was more like ‘threatening’ and there may or may not have been ice shards thrown, but it was nice to meet someone as… morally free as him.

Yeah, that was the word for it.

“General?” The word was hushed, but still surprised Jack so much he let out a small yelp.

She snickered to herself, amused

“You’re evil, you know.”

She murmured her sarcastic agreement then looked toward the lake.

“We have company, General Winter.”

He tensed, twirling his staff into an offensive stance. They had agreed to call each other by their ‘formal’ names when others came around. Usually because the names alone would scare the undetermined off. Who would dare mess with General Winter and a rouge _Warden?_

A rustle from the ferns in front of them, then a bird flew behind them.

 “Thirty meters, magic-bound.” Comes the monotone update, and the soft hum of her magic fills the air around them.

“Twenty. Shadow magic.” Now slightly hesitant, and a faint stirring of curiosity rises up within Jack. He can deal with Shadow magic

“Ah, shit!” She swears and sucks back her magic, yanks Jack’s hood down and steps behind him.

He barely has time before the shadows catch up with them.

The shadows crawl up the trees  and turn the plants black, they stretch over the canopy and form a dome with them inside of it.

This is all so familiar Jack cannot breathe, hope bursting at the seams and he sets his staff down. The shadows slow and stop a yard or two away from them. He hears the _Ward_ ’s sigh of relief and cautiously and carefully pulls out the locket he has always carried with him.

The shadows stop and a figure pours from them, tall and impressive. Jack calmly walks up to the forming figure and the _Keeper_ stays behind, still holding out the metal.

Jack grins, feral and wild, at the man. His face is level with the bottom of a white v. to the sides are buttons and Jack lets his eyes slowly, ever so slowly, track up the chest to meet the eyes of the shadow-man. The eyes are silver and the uneasy tension in them makes Jack want to weep.

So he steps flush against the man and stretches to wrap his arms around his neck, letting the Wind lift him to the same height. Jack leans in and puts his lips right next to the gray ear.

“Welcome home, _Captain._ ”

His Pitch’s arms wrap around Jack loose at first, but when he realizes that Jack’s not going anywhere tighten and constrict around his lover.

And neither would have it any other way.

 


	2. Planning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know whats going on anymore??? This started out as a two-shot and then expanded into a short fic idek man no one is telling me anything the Ward's just staring over my shoulder muttering 'oh, don't mind me' and gfd just grab a cuppa or something.

Their plan to get back into space was at first, simple and easy to comprehend. All they had to do was repair the ship, get fuel, and try not to get killed in the process.  But how does one fix an intergalactic ship that’s too advanced for modern Earth technology?

By going to the one place where they knew that would have the blueprints for the ship: The Workshop.

Jack was the one who said they needed to break into St.North’s shop. Pitch had thought about it for all of a minute before agreeing. North had the books, the resources, the capacity to understand what they were trying to do.

The Warden however, wasn’t so keen.

“He’ll know who we are.” She said petulantly over the roaring fire they had made close to the Pitch’s ship. They had been meeting once every other week- because quite frankly, that’s all she could stand of their lovey-dovey mushy happiness. She didn’t hold it against them, they loved each other so much and that was fine and dandy, and also had both seriously considered that the other had been dead. But, still.

Jack mock-glared at the redhead before turning to brush a leaf out of his lover’s hair. Pitch smiled softly before glancing at the moon. It was a new moon tonight, the Captain thought it was fitting to host such planning when their old enemy was away.

“Do these Guardians know of us?” His voice was deep and dark, a barest thread of suspicion in his tone. He didn’t exactly trust her, but she had saved his General and that was no laughing matter.  She shrugged, rolling her eyes.

“You two haven’t exactly made yourselves scarce.” She grimaced, waving her hand over the tallest tips of the flames. Jack snickered at that. “There have been rumors among the spirit-folk. Of shadows that aren’t tied to actual objects, of hoarfrost that appears out of season and climate zones.” She stopped after this, obviously about to say something else. “And…well, of a ginger named War. I’m not sure if it’s a compliment or insult, but I’m sure there’s another woman in charge of _that_ mess.”

“War?” Jack piped up, leaning from Pitch to blow on the fire, it momentarily turning a cerulean blue before fading back to orange. His counterpart did the same, the flame turning a violent purple before she joined in as well, the flame flickering white. She stared at it, a smile in her lips as Jack continued. “You? No offense, Ward, but you’re just as soft and cuddly as Pitch and I.” He simpered, picking non-existent lint of his waistcoat.

Pitch chortled at that, then turned to Jack. “Do you need to tell me about something?” He mocked as Jack playfully punched his arm. “Ward, did you take advantage of my Jack?” He continued at the mortified look on her face, apparently not getting  the joke.

“Of Space and Ti- no, I did _not._ You two are dysfunctional enough without adding me in. _No_ , no thank you.”

A few minutes passed in simple conversation, retelling stories of each of their own conquests. Jack’s main gig had been supply, getting the materials ~~and tearing down cities that had them~~ for the increasing amount of soldiers in the army. Pitch, of course, had been more driven in expanding their reach.  When asked, the Ward simply smiled, and explained the psychological factors needed for a  proper imperialist regime.

“If they do not love you, make them fear you.” She pointed out quietly, staring out  past the ship into the forest for a moment.

A few seconds after that, a bright light emitted from her pocket. She grinned, opening the flap and pulling out a phone. She stood up and brushed the dust from her own concrete gray jacket. “I need to answer this. Perhaps I’ll bring these devices back when we all get back to our respective homes. Mighty useful, humans can be.” She slid the top half and stared at the screen for a moment.

“It’s an update from the Unseelie Court.” She said as an opening, too focused to see Jack tense. “They know about you two- but have unanimously decided to leave you alone. Better yet, they’ll help us repair the ship if we swear to get off Earth and stay off.”

Both of the men looked at each other for a terse second before erupting into laughter and speaking simultaneously:

“They can’t stand us, can they?”

“They want us off their rock, don’t they?”

“ _Their_ rock?” Jack wheezed. “Why would we want to stay here?”

She looked at them curiously before smiling herself, sending a trickle of magic to the fire.

“Well, I’ve heard a delightful little story about the Easter Bunny and the Sandman, if you were still interested about those things.”  A rabbit appeared in the fire, up on its back legs, sniffing the air. Near the top of the fire, a cloud passes, blocking out a moon. Her smile turned malicious. “And a Fairy Queen that isn’t a Fairy or a Queen, if my opinion mattered.” The two figures are wiped out before a hummingbird darts back and forth before becoming a part of the fire again. “They sound quite-“

The General stood up suddenly, the flames whipping around frantically before settling down again.

“I remember something like this.” He interrupted, starting out hesitantly and looking at Pitch for reassurance of a sort. “It was in the Beta sector of Pooka territory. We were low on supplies?” Pitch takes a second, eyes squinting in recollection.

“Beta sector in Pooka territory…before the Tsar enlisted the Pooka or after?”

Jack’s face clears in recognition. “After. I remember they had flyers of us in every port on every planet. Never could get the jaw right.” He murmured the last part, looking up at the sky for a moment before continuing:

“I had to get into this warehouse for some reason- booze? I think that’s what it was. Fancy Pooka stuff. Anyways, I had a disguise myself as a young ice sprite or something and sneak my way in. I think I said I was marooned? An Orphan? I forget.”

As he finished, unbeknownst to him, his lover’s eyes gradually brightened and started to study the Warden.  She met his eyes and froze, turning her head away a little.

“Can you grow out your hair overnight?” Pitch asked her, delighting in the small jump she gave. She stared into the fire, slowly speaking:

“Not…an awful lot, but an inch to an inch and a half if I…focus. Why?”

It’s Jack who speaks now, sitting back down and grinning ear to ear.

“Who would turn down a Ward?” He gleefully asks, “No one, that’s who. Especially not these people you’re telling us about. Why would they? If you don’t bring any weapons with you an dress really nice, they’ll be downright friendly.”

Pitch smiles at Jack, obviously proud of his quick mind. He grabs his General’s hand and presses a quick kiss to it.

“It’s a solid plan, Warden.” He states, the tone of his voice implying that since he agreed with it, so would she.

But she grounds the palms of her hands into her eyes, pressing in the organs until patterns appear in the dark.

“If I agree to this, what would you two be doing?”

Jack’s already etching plans into the dirt with a finger, speaking as soon as she finishes. “I heard St. North flies out of his stronghold on reindeer. He’s got to keep them in shape, rotate one or two out- if I kill one he’ll have to start training a new one. “

Neither Pitch or the Ward flinch at the prospect of this.

“And you mentioned once he was old-fashioned, yeah?  That usually means wood. Wood doors that have to be sturdy enough to protect that level from the elements,” and here, here he smiles with all teeth, looking out the corner of his eye to his staff on the other side of Pitch. “and yet light enough to close somewhat quickly. That means…”

“Magic.” They all say at once.

“Nature magic.” The Ward specifies.

“Black magic can break nature magic.” Pitch muses, pointedly not looking at the female.

Jack laughs, throwing himself into the air for the Wind to catch him. “So if you break the magic on the doors while you’re there, Pitch and I can get in and sneak around while you distract St. North!”

"If it's just the old man, sure." Pitch reaches up into the air and tugs him down, looking into the forest, his eyes no doubt seeing better than theirs. Jack relucantly settles on the ground again as Pitch stands up slowly, walking a little away from the fire to look harder at the tops of the trees. The other two stand also, eyes squinting to try and see something amongst the shadows. Shrugging at each other, Jack and the Ward stand up and brush themselves off and stand next to Pitch.

"Not an animal I presume." She breathes, the words barely take shape in the air before both the men nod, Jack once again lifted by the air. Flying quickly back to the fire and grabbing his staff, he meets eyes with Pitch for a second before shooting off in the direction they've been looking in.

There's a rustle in the distance and the immediate area is filled with a wooshing sound, and the Ward looks over at Pitch. His hands are no longer visible in place of dark, inky shadows covering them. Walking quickly back to the fire, waves her hand over it and the flame wilts, chokes, then extinguishes.

What feels like a quarter-hour passes in the silence.

The night is filled with so much more now, the air not following the General is thick, sentient. 

But there's now another presence behind the two. The Ward notices it first as her mind is not as occupied as Pitch's. She swears, not bothering to hide the sound anymore. She tells Pitch they've got another and he turns around, eyes quicksilver in the night.

"Hello." Pitch hears the Ward greet, but sees from his angle that her eyes are pupil-less and black. He follows her line of sight and spots the being.

"The General has your partner, fledging." She states impassively, and that confuses Pitch for a moment. There is a second or two of interlude before the being shrieks and runs away.

Pitch hears Jack before he sees him, laughter like warm honey and the noise of him passing through the trees. Jack looks refreshed from the excursion and practically glows with joy. As the Captain wills his shadows away- a burn in his muscles and while he's a little disappointed nothing happened, happy he doesn't have to scrub blood out of his lover's clothes. 

"Just a wayward sprite." He gushes out, circling around Pitch a few times. "Was attracted by the ship. Apparently, we're on his turf but he said it's alright as long as leave the lake alone." 

There's an unquiet snort behind the two men. Jack turns around from standing on the top of his staff to see the Ward casting them a lazy wave as she walks away from them.

"Don't forget the plan!" Jack yells after her, but the sound is swallowed before it can reverberate.

"She's weird." He states to Pitch's amusement.

 _Perhaps,_ Pitch muses, _but so are you._

 

 


End file.
